A Graveside Meeting
by MadMar
Summary: When Severus Snape goes to visit Lily's grave, a chance meeting offers him an ounce of closure. Mentions of James/Lily and one-sided Snape/Lily. Reviews welcomed!


"What a dismal way to end such a wonderful week!"

Severus Snape glowered at the speaker, a ruddy faced man on the barstool beside him, before looking out the window. Grey rain blocked the morning sun and slid slowly down the pane and onto the street. Snape's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he was jarred by his thoughts by his unwanted companion.

"What's your problem, eh? You should be celebrating! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone and we can all sleep in peace!"

Snape shut his eyes and slammed a few sickles down on the bar to pay for his drink and swept out of the bar and onto the mud-slick streets. The hell he would be celebrating the Dark Lord's defeat. The hell he could sleep in peace. He didn't expect strangers to understand and he wasn't the sort to divulge his innermost thoughts to random passersby. Lily was gone. Sweet Lily… Brave Lily… _His_ Lily… Everyone had talked about how gallantly, how courageously the Potters fought and how mysterious Harry Potter's survival was. That was all they'd been talking about all week; there was no escaping it. But even if everyone wasn't talking about it, Snape knew he'd be haunted by the Dark Lord's defeat and by Lily's death.

Perhaps it was her ghost that led Snape to the graveyard that afternoon. The funeral service had been two days ago, but Snape had declined going. Not that he'd been invited, of course. But even if he had, he hadn't wanted to embrace Lily's death, nor his part in it. He hadn't wanted to come across Remus Lupin, sullen and miserable, standing with the Order of the Phoenix, and commiserate. He hadn't wanted to see Albus Dumbledore so soon after their last encounter. Snape hadn't wanted to see anyone. He sloshed along in the rain and passed as groups of young children played in the puddles and as several old ladies ducked for cover from the elements. At long last, he came to the graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

He didn't expect her body to be in the earth. The Potters' home had been in shambles. He could just imagine her, lying there in the rubble, her perfect body broken and lifeless. A fresh sob welled in his throat, but as Snape pushed open the wrought-iron gate, he choked it back. Someone was crouched already by the Potters' graves. Snape stopped and narrowed his eyes at the intruding mourner, studying her carefully. Thin, she was, and blonde. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Snape couldn't place her. He frowned, strode towards her, and cleared his throat rather loudly.

The woman looked up, surprise etched in her horsey features and Snape recoiled. Blue eyes met black and suddenly it registered.

"Petunia."

"Snape."

An intense silence passed as each looked at the other with as much loathing as either could muster. Still, neither seemed able to find what else to say to one another for a long time. Snape broke the silence first.

"I must say… It's quite shocking to see you in a neighborhood of 'freaks'."

"And I must say, it's quite shocking to see you showing your face before nightfall."

Snape glowered.

"What gives you the right to be here, anyway?" he muttered, flexing his tense shoulder blades. "You weren't invited to the funeral, anyway."

Petunia's beady eyes widened in hurt surprise, but in an instant, her lips pursed and she stood up. Snape still towered over her, but now, she cut a slightly more intimidating figure than she had kneeling on the ground.

"And you were?" she snapped. "You, after all these years, were invited to my sister's funeral? Just because I'm not a witch, doesn't mean I'm _stupid_, Snape. You weren't there either. And if you were, it wasn't because you were wanted there."

Snape's mouth twitched irritably and he folded his arms defensively. "You don't know that. For all you know, Lily and I made up. For all you know, we went right back to being best of friends—"

Petunia gave a shrill, forced laugh. "Please! Don't joke me. If that were true, you'd have married her yourself. But you didn't, did you?"

Snape made a low sound and reached into his cloak pocket. Petunia's eyes suddenly widened and she took a step back.

"You wouldn't…"

"Why? Are you going to stop me?" Snape said, raising his brows challengingly before slowly pulling from his pocket a lighter and pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it quickly before the rain could douse the fire. He laughed bitterly at the look of fury on Petunia's face.

"You shouldn't smoke in a graveyard," she said, her voice incredibly strained.

Snape shrugged lazily and turned towards James Potter's gravesite. He took a drag and then flicked the ashes onto Potter's fresh grave. He stood there for a few seconds more, twirling the cigarette in his long, pale fingers, before tossing it onto the ground and stomping it out.

When he turned back around, Petunia was still there.

"Staring is rude, you know," he said coldly.

"So is littering on a man's grave."

"Look. If you're here to mourn your sister, hurry up. Some of us have unfinished business here."

"What are you going to do next, eh? Smoke the rest of the pack and light my brother-in-law's corpse on fire?"

"I'm not here for him. Merlin, woman, you said you weren't stupid."

Petunia threw her hands into the air and sighed. It was now Snape's turn to stare as Petunia knelt again beside Lily's grave, crossing herself and folding her hands in silence. Praying. Funny. Snape could never remember the Evans' being a particularly religious family…

"She's all yours."

"What?" Snape blinked a few times.

"I'm leaving, Snape. You can finish whatever it is you came to do."

"Of course." His voice was, for the first time since arriving, mild.

He turned to Lily's grave and listened as Petunia's feet fell softly against the mud. When he couldn't hear them anymore, he slid to his knees and gripped the gravestone. That sob that had been welling up in his throat made its way out, at first a soft moan, but quickly giving way to a mournful, strangled cry. He almost didn't hear the footsteps of someone winding around the other side of the fence. Still, he could feel a pair of eyes upon him and immediately, he did his best to save face. He looked up slowly, guiltily, and once again met Petunia's gaze. This time, though, her eyes weren't icy and cold. They seemed to reflect his own, unspeakable pain.

"I'm… so sorry," he said quietly. "Very, very sorry."

Petunia nodded and for a fleeting moment, Snape thought she was about to extend her hand through the fence to him. But instead, she turned and walked away.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I am aware no indication is given that Snape is a smoker. Artistic license, I guess. Reviews are much appreciated!


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